


Fresh blood

by drwhogirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Ketch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:05:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhogirl/pseuds/drwhogirl





	1. Introduction

Nobody spoke of Arthur Ketch. Nobody dared. He was the organisation’s failure. Once the Men of Letters’ greatest hunter but allowed himself to be turned. To become a vampire.

The ultimate betrayal came when he refused to allow himself to be beheaded. That was his true crime. Instead of allowing himself to be murdered he had the nerve to flee, to value his own life over the good of the organisation.

That’s the story of how Arthur Ketch came to the United States. Everyone in Lawrence knew that story. People who were there passed it on to their children who in turn passed it on to theirs and down through the generations it went.

The story became distorted over time, with many no longer even believing it to be true. After all, vampires weren’t real. Merely the stuff of fairy tales. But, if you asked any of them to approach the manor on the edge of town they would refuse. Believers and non-believers alike refused to even approach Bramblehouse manor.

The non-believers tried to brush off the uneasiness they felt as being down to the stylings, the medieval gothic design of the architecture was enough to put anyone on edge after all. They even had an answer for the appearance of the owner. Every few years or so, a man would be seen in the grounds. This might not seem so unusual, until you consider the fact that he always looked the same. Always the same age and always wearing the same regency style clothes.

Whilst to some, this was proof enough that a vampire lived on the edge of town, others remained unconvinced. Decided it was some kind of family ruse going back generations with all the males in the family. Even they were relatively unconvinced by this theory however and resented anyone who pointed out the holes in the theory. How would they all look completely identical? Why would they all have exactly the same tattoo? Why would they never be seen in town getting supplies? Why even bother with the ruse at all? It just didn’t hold up to any kind of scrutiny.

For centuries, the world outside the manor moved on whilst inside time seemed frozen. Cut off from the rest of the world, Arthur Ketch remained unaware of the advancements that had been made. Cars and mobiles and televisions all remained foreign to him.

He had no contact from the outside world for over two hundred years, it was two hundred and six years not that he was counting or anything. Nothing in all that time until one morning, he heard the doorbell ring.


	2. Chapter 2

Mick wasn’t really sure where he was going. He didn’t exactly have anywhere to go. No friends, no family, not even really any acquaintances to take him in. For all intents and purposes, he was alone. He guessed he could have gone to the Winchesters for help but that would be too obvious, if he did that he would be found. Found and executed.

Somehow, with the Winchesters in mind he ended up in their place of birth. He ended up in Lawrence.

He knew his car was probably being tracked so he left it on the outskirts of town and walked the rest of the way.

As he walked through the city centre, he decided it would be a good idea to stop somewhere for breakfast before finding somewhere to sleep. He figured it would be a good idea to sleep during the day and travel at night. That way it was less likely that the men of letters would find him. There would be less witnesses that might be able to recognise him or point him out if they came snooping later.

He stopped off at Jaybird’s diner to get a to go breakfast order. Whilst he was there, he heard a couple of locals talking about a haunted house on the edge of the town. Sounded like as good a place to start as any, it probably wasn’t really haunted and even if it was it wouldn’t be that difficult for Mick to sort it out. Ignoring the look of horror he received when he asked for directions, he walked the possibly five miles to his destination.

The manor itself was beautiful. Mick couldn’t help running a hand along the dark stone by the door. He couldn’t have said what it was made from, but whatever it was it was very old and very beautiful. It was only through the feel that he was able to find the little crevices within the stone. They’d been worn almost smooth by the weather over the years but once he knew where he was looking, Mick could see they were actually runes. Enochian and Norse and Celtic and any manner of other things that Mick couldn’t even begin to name.

When he stood up straight, he felt something brush against his head. There was a rope, presumably for the doorbell. Reaching up, Mick decided to give it a pull. He wasn’t expecting anyone to answer, the place was meant to be either abandoned or haunted. If it was abandoned then there would be nobody there to answer and ghosts were rarely polite enough to do so.

You can imagine his surprise then when a man came to the door. He was only slightly taller than Mick and his slicked back hair and smart, black clothes made Mick think ever so briefly of Count Dracula. He always loved that book as a kid.

“Can I help you?” The man asked, squinting at Mick in the bright sunlight.

“Sorry, I was told that nobody lived here.” Mick tried to explain. He hadn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble and suddenly felt rather guilty that he’d disturbed someone, whether intentionally or otherwise.

“If you believed nobody lived here, why would you ring the bell?”

“I wondered if it worked.” Mick told him honestly. The excuse sounded weak to Mick’s own ears but the other man nodded. “I’m Mick, by the way. Mick Davies.” He offered the man a hand to shake and it was taken with a black gloved hand to return the shake.

“Arthur Ketch. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Ketch wasn’t really sure what to do here. His last human contact was about two hundred years ago so he wasn’t completely sure he remembered what the social conventions were surrounding a first meeting anymore.

“Nice to meet you Arthur Ketch.” Mick replied with a grin, that made Ketch relax slightly (internally anyway) at least he hadn’t offended anyone. The last thing he needed was the man in front of him going back to the village and telling everyone the local vampire had offended him. Then Ketch would have a lynch mob on his hands.

Ketch could feel his skin beginning to burn at the exposure to sunlight, so he did the only thing he could without seeming rude and invited the other man in. Mick hesitated at first. This had gone slightly differently to how he expected but he supposed staying for a bit couldn’t hurt, maybe he could even scrounge a bed for the night.

As Ketch closed the door, Mick was plunged into almost complete darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. As they did he was able to make out a grand marble staircase with an incredible ornate banister. If it looked gorgeous in the dark, Mick could only imagine what it would look like in the light of day. Ketch took his hand and lead him carefully through to what seemed to be the main living area.

Mick took the offered seat at the grand piano and watched his host with curiosity. Ketch went to the adjoining kitchen to pour them each drinks and it was only when Mick was left alone with his thoughts that he began to slowly piece things together. The name Arthur Ketch sounded oddly familiar but he couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before. He kept wracking his brain, trying to form some kind of connection.

It was only when he smelt something slightly metallic that he remembered. It was Kendricks. A cautionary tale about a hunter from the 1800s who became a vampire and was never heard from again. Mick like everyone else assumed that was code for him having been killed but based on the situation Mick had suddenly found himself in, he had to guess that wasn’t the case.

Ketch didn’t seem to notice Mick’s sudden tension as he lounged in the wingback chair that had been placed by the fire. In reality, Ketch had not only noticed but was slightly worried. That amount of tension meant Mick must have realised something. Something about him. It was only that knowledge that encouraged him to speak. “There’s no need to look so worried. I’m not going to bite. Well not unless you ask anyway.”

That threw Mick off ever so slightly but also made him relax enough to take a sip of the provided whiskey. He didn’t even think about the fact it could have any number of things wrong with it until after, but when it didn’t cause him to collapse or faint or hallucinate he finished it rather quickly.

Ketch meanwhile, took the moment to observe his houseguest. He was pleased Mick seemed to have calmed down a little. He didn’t know what the man was running from but whatever it was it scared the living daylights out of him, Ketch recognised that look. He’d seen it before in the mirror.

“Are people really wearing that now?” He asked, looking at Mick’s clothes with interest.

“Sometimes, only if they need to for work.” Mick decided not to tell Ketch what he used to do for a living, not only was it unnecessary but he was unarmed and didn’t much like his chances if the vampire decided to rip his throat out for it.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a researcher… was… was a researcher.”

“Does that past tense have something to do with the reason you’re running?” When all Ketch received was a nod, he knew it was probably best to stop pushing. Didn’t want to push his guest too far after all. “Well if you would like to hide here for a while you are more than welcome.”

Mick considered that for a moment. So far Ketch had been nothing but hospitable, so he doubted he’d be murdered in his sleep or something. If that were going to happen it would have by now. “I haven’t got anything to offer in return except…” Mick trailed off but his thinking was perfectly clear.

“Won’t be necessary. That’s what the animals are for.” Mick nodded his understanding. He’d seen cattle and livestock in the fields on the way in. It made sense that they would be here to supply the owner with blood.

“The offer’s still there.” Mick reassured him. Ketch nodded and left to prepare a room for his new guest. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking, allowing the man to stay but it felt… right… Every instinct he had was telling him to trust the man so he was going to do just that, even if it went completely against his better judgement.

Once the room was ready, he led Mick up the stairs to the first room on the right. “There are some clothes for you to borrow in there, nothing modern unfortunately but I’m sure it will be alright for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you Ketch.”

“Arthur.”

“What?”

“Everyone at my old job used to call me Ketch. I’d like you to call me Arthur.”

“Alright, goodnight Arthur.”

“Goodnight Mick.” The moment Ketch left the room and Mick lay down on the pillow, he sparked out. Despite the potential danger of staying with a vampire, he slept like the dead and didn’t awaken until after dark.


	3. Chapter 3

When Mick awoke, he felt rather groggy, like he was suffering from really bad Jetlag, which in a way he was. He’d gone from somewhat normal waking hours to nocturnal with no time to adjust.

It was then that he noticed it was somehow even darker in the room than when he went to sleep. Fumbling on his bedside table, he eventually found his phone. There were no lights but there was a candle and a box of matches left next to where his phone had been.

Reaching out to light the match, and in turn the candle, Mick thought about everything that had led him to this moment. He knew he needed to move, needed to leave but at the same time felt slightly hesitant to do so.

As his eyes adjusted, he realised that the clothes he had been wearing when he arrived were no longer on the floor where he left them. He gave the room another cursory glance. There was no sign of what he’d been wearing, instead there was a note tucked underneath his mobile.

_I hope you don’t mind me taking your clothes. I thought you might wish them to be clean before you continued your journey. There are more clothes in the wardrobe_

Mick’s first thought was that was really considerate. His second thought however was the sudden realisation that if there was no lights then there was no washing machine or tumble drier meaning there was no way his clothes would be dry enough to leave tonight. The thought that his host must have stayed up washing his clothes was both incredibly sweet and somewhat frustrating as it meant he was unable to leave. Regardless he might as well make use of the vampire’s hospitality whilst he had the chance.

Climbing non-too gracefully out of bed, he headed over to the wardrobe to see what he was left with. Ketch appeared to have made a real effort to find clothes similar to what he had been wearing when he arrived, and Mick pulled out a plain white shirt and a pair of trousers. His shoes were still on the floor by his bed, so he picked those up and put them on as well. The house was surprisingly warm, so he didn’t bother with any of the extra layers he’d been provided with.

Using the candle holder provided, Mick managed to navigate back to the lounge from earlier. The warm glow from the fire illuminated the room, casting Ketch as a mere silhouette. “There’s food for you on the table.” Ketch hadn’t even glanced up from his book, but he had heard Mick enter the room and suspected the man was probably starving by now. He looked like it had been a while since he had eaten a proper meal. Mick gave him a slightly suspicious look which caused Ketch to roll his eyes. “What could I have possibly done to it? There’s no point in poisoning it because if I did all I’d have is a dead body; your blood wouldn’t even be of any use and if I wanted to sedate you why wouldn’t I have done so whilst you were asleep and saved myself this conversation?” Mick seemed to accept that and sat at the table to eat.

He poked the lamb in front of him with his fork. He couldn’t help wondering if it was one of Ketch’s from the field. He guessed it must be. He hoped it hadn’t suffered though and hadn’t been killed just to eat.

Ketch seemed to sense his hesitation and it wasn’t hard to guess why. “She was old and lame, it was a kindness. She needed to be put down anyway, it’s better this way. At least her death gets to mean something.” Mick seemed to see the sense in that and began eating. It was testament to how hungry he was that he finished it in less than a couple of minutes.

“Would you like a book to read?” Ketch asked when Mick finished.

“What?”

“Book.” He said, holding up the novel in his own hands. At Mick’s nod, Ketch stood up. “Follow me.” Mick did as instructed and was surprised to be lead back upstairs. Ketch opened the door at the end of the hall, allowing Mick to enter.

As Mick stepped over the threshold, he found himself in the most stunning library he had ever seen. There were books as far as the eye could see, which admittedly wasn’t as far as if there were electric lights but as Ketch went round and lit some of the gas lights around the room Mick could see just how vast the library really was. None of the titles looked any more modern than Ketch himself but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. As Mick approached a shelf he found a whole section devoted to Dickens. Pulling a title at random off the shelf, he had a flick through. Despite the pages yellowed with age, it was pristine. A glance at the first page however, and Mick had to fight the urge to drop it as if he’d been burnt. Oliver Twist, 1837. The book in his hands was a first edition.

Ketch had apparently left and gone back downstairs, and Mick considered putting the book back. If Ketch hadn’t wanted him to read any specific books, then he would have said something but at the same time he was holding thousands of pounds worth of bound paper in his hand. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself that much. But then he realised that he’d have the same dilemma with any book here, they were all going to be about 200 years old. He spotted an armchair in the corner and once he’d beaten some of the dust out of it he sat down and read the book until Ketch came to find him to make him eat something at lunch time and again at dinner. By the time he retired to his room he’d finished not only Oliver Twist but David Copperfield as well. He enjoyed having the time to rest and relax whilst he had the chance, he’d have to be back on the run again tomorrow after all.


End file.
